BLIGHTY
♦ He woke; the clank and racket of the train Kept time with angry throbbings in his brain. At last he lifted his bewildered eyes. . And blinked, and rolled them sidelong; hills and skies, Heavily wooded, hot with August haze, And, slipping backward, golden for his I gaze, Acres of harvest. He sighed, confused; then drew a cautious breath; This level journeying was no ride through death. "If I were dead," he mused, " there'd be no thinking— Only some plunging underworld of sinking, And hueless, shifting welter where I'd drown." j Then he remembered that his name was . Brown. But was he back in Blighty? Slow he turned, Till in his heart thanksgiving leaped and burned. There shone the blue serene, the prosperous land, Trees, cows, and hedgep; skipping these he scanned Large, friendly names that change not with the year, Lung Tonic, Mustard, Liver Pills, and Beer. t —Siegfried Sassoon, in.' "The Old Huntsman." I
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/LDC19180914.2.3
Bibliographic details
Levin Daily Chronicle, 14 September 1918, Page 1
Word Count
156BLIGHTY Levin Daily Chronicle, 14 September 1918, Page 1
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